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62?   South  Waba^h  Ave.  CHICAGO 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET 
PASSAGE 

A  COMEDY-DRAMA  IN  THREE  ACTS 


BY 

LINDSEY  BARBEE 

AUTHOR  OF 

'All  on  a  Summer's  Day,"  "After  the  Game,"  "The  Dream  That  Came 

True,"  "The  Kingdom  of  Heart's  Content,"  "The 

Thread  of  Destiny,"  Etc. 


CHICAGO 

T.  S.  DENISON  &  COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET 
PASSAGE 


CHARACTERS. 

MRS.  SHERMAN The  Hostess 

BETTY  DREW Her  Niece 

RUTH . . 1 

RITA.  . .  [• House  Guests  of  Mrs.  Sherman 

ALICE.  .  j 

HANNAH A  Maid 

MADAME  DREW Of  Revolutionary  Days 

ANNETTE  . . . . ") 

CAROLINE.  . . .  > Her  Daughters 

ELIZABETH  . .  ) 

WENONAH  . . . '. An  Indian  Maid 

JOHN  HARVEY Of  the  Patriot  Army 

NOTE. — The  character  of  John  Harvey  can  easily  be  assumed  by 
a  girl,  if  it  is  not  desirable  to  have  a  man  in  the  cast. 


SCENE — Just  Out  of  Trenton,  New  Jersey. 


TIME — The  Present. 


TIME  OF  PLAYING — About  One  and  Three-quarter  Hours. 


ACT      I.     Hannah's  story.     Christmas  night. 

ACT    II.     Rita's  dream.     Christmas  night,  1776. 

ACT  III.     Betty's  Surprise.    The  day  after  Christmas, 


SETTING — The  living  room  in  the  Drew  home. 


COPYRIGHT,  1916,  BY  EBEN  H.  NORRIS. 
0        MADE  IN  U.  S.  A. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 


SYNOPSIS  FOR  PROGRAM. 

ACT  I. — Betty's  engagement  dance  on  Christmas  night 
proves  a  great  success  and  many  discussions  follow  as  the 
girls  chat  over  their  chocolate.  The  relics  of  th.e  Drew 
home  and  its  historic  associations  prove  of  never-failing 
interest  to  the  members  of  the  house  party,  for  Mrs.  Sher- 
man and  Betty  have  many  anecdotes  and  traditions  to  relate. 
Rita  rejoices  in  the  fact  that  the  house  has  both  a  ghost 
and  a  secret  passage.  The  portrait  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Drew, 
Betty's  great-great-grandmother,  excites  much  admiration. 
Hannah,  a  trusty  servant  of  the  house,  tells  the  story  of 
Mistress  Elizabeth's  romantic  career  and  declares  that  on 
every  Christmas  night  the  ghosts  of  the  happy  pair  haunt 
the  very  room  in  which  they  are  sitting.  Rita  begs  to  spend 
the  night  in  the  haunted  room,  but  is  laughingly  escorted 
to  her  own  bed  as  sleepy  goodnights  are  said.  When  all  is 
quiet,  Rita,  lighted  by  "Lafayette's  candle,"  appears  again 
and  after  gazing  fearfully  about  her,  cuddles  into  the  big 
chair  and  dreams  a  dream. 

ACT  II.  Scene  I. — The  Christmas  dance  ends  with  a 
heated  argument  in  which  Mistress  Elizabeth  stands  her 
ground.  Wenonah  brings  a  message  and  John  Harvey 
gains  an  interview  with  his  lady  love.  His  secret  mission 
is  made  known  to  Mistress  Elizabeth  and  the  marked  chart 
ris  put  into  her  hands.  Shots,  pursuit  and  th.e  secret  passage. 

Scene  II. — Where  is  Elizabeth?  Many  answers  to  the 
question.  The  mysterious  tapping.  Elizabeth  makes  a 
dramatic  entrance  and  brings  astounding  news. 

ACT  III. — "And  then — I  awoke !"  The  girls  urge  Rita  to 
test  the  revelation  of  the  dream  by  showing  them  the  secret 
passage.  "Not  till  Betty  comes !"  Betty's  puzzling  absence 
is  discussed.  Another  mysterious  tapping.  Rita  touches 
the  spring  and  the  panel  slides  back.  "He's  waiting  for  me 
— at  the  end  of  the  secret  passage!" 


2055223 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 


STORY  OF  THE  PLAY. 

Rita,  Alice  and  Ruth  are  house  guests  of  Mrs.  Sherman 
and  her  niece  Betty  in  their  home  near  Trenton,  a  Revolu- 
tionary mansion  with  many  attendant  traditions.  It  is  Christ- 
mas night  and  all  have  returned  from  a  Christmas  dance 
given  in  honor  of  Betty's  engagement  to  a  young  army  offi- 
cer who  is  spending  his  holidays  in  Trenton  while  waiting 
for  his  commission.  After  the  usual  desultory  conversation 
which  follows  in  the  wake  of  a  Christmas  festivity,  Rita 
roams  restlessly  around  the  room,  admiring  and  comment- 
ing upon  many  interesting  and  historic  things  The  ques- 
tions concerning  the  family  portraits  are  answered  by  Mrs. 
Sherman  and  Betty,  with,  many  anecdotes  and  traditions,  and 
Rita,  charmed  by  the  atmosphere  of  the  place,  declares  that 
all  it  needs  to  make  it  quite  perfect  is  a  ghost  and  a  secret 
passage.  Mrs.  Sherman  laughingly  asserts  that  both  ghost 
and  secret  passage  are  included  in  the  family  associations 
and  calls  upon  an  old  family  servant  for  a  "story."  Hannah 
tells  the  story  of  a  Christmas  night  in  '76  when  a  certain 
Elizabeth  Drew,  a  loyal  little  patriot  in  the  midst  of  a 
staunch  Tory  family,  aided  and  abetted  Washington's  army 
in  its  sudden  descent  upon  the  Hessians  at  Trenton.  For — 
the  story  went — her  lover  was  with  the  patriot  army,  and 
on  this  historic  night  she  not  only  effected  his  escape  by 
means  of  the  secret  passage,  but  also  carried  an  important 
message  to  headquarters — and  subsequently  married  him. 
Wherefore — according  to  tradition — each  Christmas  night 
th.e  ghosts  of  the  happy  pair  walk  and  talk  together  in  this 
very  room,  and  may  be  seen  by  those  who  have  the  inner 
eye.  Rita  begs  to  sleep  in  the  "haunted  room,"  but  Mrs. 
Sherman  laughingly  objects,  and  Betty  refuses  to  reveal  the 
whereabouts  of  the  secret  passage  until  the  morrow.  After 
all  have  retired,  Rita  steals  into  the  room,  curls  up  in  the 
big  chair,  prepares  to  keep  vigil  and — falls  asleep. 

Her  dream  is  portrayed  in  the  second  act.  Mistress  Eliz- 
abeth's defiant  defence  of  the  patriot  cause ;  the  stolen  inter- 
view with  her  lover;  his  discovery  and  his  flight  by  thi 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.        5 

secret  passage;  her  sudden  decision  to  carry  the  message 
to  headquarters  and  its  dramatic  consequences,  all  come  to 
Rita  in  slumberland,  and  when  the  morning  comes  she  tells 
her  thrilling  story.  Betty  has  been  called  into  the  city  by 
a  mysterious  telephone  message  and  Rita  absolutely  refuses 
to  reveal  the  secret  passage  until  her  return.  All  of  a  sudden 
a  faint  tapping  is  heard,  a  tapping  which,  upon  investiga- 
tion, seems  to  come  from  beyond  the  wall.  Rita  touches  the 
spring  and  the  panel  slides  back  revealing  Betty,  flushed 
and  excited.  After  a  storm  of  questions  she  gives  the  fol- 
lowing account  of  her  movements.  By  appointment  she  has 
met  her  soldier  lover  for  a  morning  ride.  She  finds  he  has 
received  his  commission,  and,  yielding  to  his  urgent  pleas, 
marries  him.  Like  Elizabeth  of  old,  she  decides  to  bring 
the  news  by  way  of  the  secret  passage. 


CHARACTERS  AND  COSTUMES. 

MRS.  SHERMAN — Vivacious,  thoroughly  up  to  date. 

RUTH,  RITA,  ALICE — Typically  modern  in  every  respect. 

All  wear  elaborate  evening  gowns  and  coats  in  first  act. 
Simple  morning  gowns  in  last  act. 

BETTY  DREW — Bright,  audacious,  full' of  life.  She  wears 
an  evening  gown  in  the  first  act,  a  riding  suit  in  the  last. 

HANNAH — Quiet  and  dignified.  She  wears  conventional 
maid's  costume  with  white  apron.  She  should  be  middle- 
aged  in  appearance. 

MADAME  DREW — Haughty  and  imperious. 

ANNETTE  AND  CAROLINE — Argumentative  and  self-assert- 
ive. 

All  wear  evening  gowns  of  the  time  of  the  Revolution  in 
Scene  I.  Morning  gowns  of  the  same  period  in  Scene  II. 

ELIZABETH — Quick  in  repartee,  self-willed,  a  trifle  defiant 
but  altogether  charming.  She  wears  quaint  and  elaborate 
evening  gown,  with  long  dark  coat  in  Scene  II. 

JOHN  HARVEY — Earnest,  impulsive  and  enthusiastic.  He 
wears  long  military  coat,  soft  hat  and  high  boots. 

WENONAH — Stolid,  slow  of  speech.  Wears  the  Indian 
garb  of  those  days. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 


PROPERTIES. 

ACT  I — Grand  piano  and  piano  bench  with  rug ;  music  for 
piano.  Colonial  sofa ;  two  colonial  chairs ;  colonial  table 
with  old-fashioned  mirror  above ;  hassock ;  old-fashioned 
desk  and  chair;  three  large  oil  paintings,  two  of  women  in 
old-fashioned  costumes,  one  of  a  man  in  colonial  dress ;  two 
brass  candlesticks  with  candles,  matches,  bric-a-brac,  books, 
etc.,  for  mantel ;  andirons,  hearth  set  and  simulated  fire  for 
fireplace ;  vase  of  flowers  for  table ;  rugs,  drapes,  curtains ; 
pillows  for  sofa;  switch  for  electric  lights;  call  button; 
sliding  panel.  Evening  coats  and  dance  programs  for  Mrs. 
Sherman  and  the  girls.  Engagement  ring  for  Betty.  Tea 
cart,  chocolate  pot,  cups  and  saucers,  napkins  for  Hannah. 
Christmas  greens  and  mistletoe  if  desired. 

ACT  II — Candelabra  and  lamps  for  piano  and  table ;  two 
candlesticks  with  lighted  candles  for  mantel ;  old-fashioned 
curtains  for  windows  ;  old-fashioned  piano  if  possible  ;  even- 
ing cloaks,  gloves,  etc.,  for  Madame  Drew  and  her  daugh- 
ters. Slouch  hat  and  paper  for  John.  Long  dark  coat  for 
Elizabeth.  Sewing  for  Madame  Drew. 

ACT  III — Embroidery  for  Ruth.  Duster  for  Hannah. 
Wedding  ring  and  riding  crop  for  Betty. 


SCENE  PLOT. 


Doorh 


OHassock    Desk  '    Mantel     '  L__J         \ 

Window        Desk-chair 

Door 


'Q  Table  D  Chair  Piano 

Bench£/ 
Q  Chair 
,H™/  Piano 


STAGE  DIRECTIONS. 

R.  means  right  of  stage;  C.,  center;  R.  C.,  right  center; 
L.,  left ;  U.  E.,  upper  entrance ;  2  E.,  lower  entrance,  etc. ; 
D.  F.,  door  in  flat  or  scene  running  across  the  back  of  the 
stage ;  up  stage,  away  from  footlights ;  down  stage,  near 
footlights.  The  actor  is  supposed  to  be  facing  the  audience. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET 
PASSAGE 


ACT  I. 

SCENE:  Living  room  in  the  Drew  home.  Full  stage. 
Large  door  R.  of  C.  in  F,  revealing  hall  beyond  with  wain- 
scot backing.  Practical  door  L.  U.  E.  Windoivs  R.  U .  E. 
and  R.  2  E.  Mantel  and  open  fireplace  with  andirons;  hearth 
set,  etc.,  at  C.  in  F.  Desk  and  desk  chair  R.  of  mantel. 
Sofa  L.  of  mantel.  Grand  piano  and  piano  bench  covered 
with  Oriental  rug,  L.  2  E.  Table  between  ztnndows  with 
old-fashioned  mirror  above.  Large  chair  at  C.  and  at  R.  2  E. 
Hassock  at  R.  U.  E.  Large  gold-framed  paintings  above 
the  desk,  the  mantel  and  the  sofa.  Handsome  rugs,  cur- 
tains and  drapes.  Books,  bric-a-brac  and  two  brass  candle- 
sticks with  candles  for  mantel.  Pillows  for  sofa.  Vase  of 
floivers  for  table.  Music  for  piano.  Simulated  fire  for 
grate.  Call  button  by  door  L.  U.  E.  Switch  for  electric 
lights  R.  of  door  in  F.  For  use  in  second  and  third  acts, 
a  sliding  panel  should  be  made  in  wall  L.  of  mantel. 
All  furniture  should  be  colonial  in  st\le.  The  subjects  of 
the  paintings  should  be  in  old-fashioned  costumes.  If  pos- 
sible, old-style  chandelier  or  side  lights.  Christmas  deco- 
rations if  desired. 

At  rise,  stage  is  well  illuminated  and  clear. 

Enter  MRS.  SHERMAN,  RITA,  RUTH  and  ALICE  at  R.  of 
C.  in  F.,  MRS.  SHERMAN  in  advance. 

MRS.  SHERMAN  (advancing  to  chair  at  C,  followed  by 
ALICE).  Lights  all  on  for  us.  Are  you  too  tired,  girls,  for 
a  cup  of  chocolate? 

RITA  (throwing  coat  on  hassock  R.  U.  E).  Too  tired? 
Do  we  look  it? 

RUTH.  Too  tired?  That's  just  your  pretty,  tactful  way 
of  saying,  "Hungry  again,  girls?" 


8        BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

ALICE  (as  MRS.  SHERMAN  attempts  to  unfasten  her  coat~). 
May  I  help  you?  (Unfastens  the  coat  and  lays  it  on  piano.) 

MRS.  S.  Thank  you,  Alice.  Ruth,  dear,  will  you  ring  for 
Hannah?  (Ruxn  touches  call  button  by  door  L.  U.  E.  and 
throws  her  coat  on  sofa.)  And  Rita,  are  you  clever  enough 
to  resurrect  a  bit  of  fire?  (RiTA  takes  poker  and  stirs  up 
fire.)  Your  chaperone  will  rest  now,  an  it  please  you. 
(Seats  herself  in  chair  at  C.) 

Enter  HANNAH,  L.  U.  E. 

MRS.  S.  Hannah,  will  you  make  us  some  of  your  good 
chocolate?  (Looks  around.)  There  are  four  of  us  and 
Miss  Betty  will  be  here  in  a  moment. 

HANNAH.     Yes,  Mrs.  Sherman.     (Exit  L.  U.  E.) 

RITA  (zvarming  her  hands  at  fire).  This  is  some  Christ- 
mas day !  'Twixt  the  holly  berry  and  everybody's  nose  there 
is  no  difference. 

ALICE  (seating  herself  on  piano  bench  and  throwing  her 
coat  beside  her).  Why  don't  you  say  lips  instead  of  nose — 
it's  so  much  more  poetical. 

RUTH  (crossing  to  unndozv  R.  U.  E.  and  raising  shade). 
Hasn't  it  been  a  Christrrras-y  Christmas?  Lovely  crunchy 
snow,  frosty  air,  sleighbells — 

Enter  BETTY,  R.  of  C.  in  F. 

BETTY.  Communing  with  nature,  Ruth,  or  merely  count- 
ing the  stars  ?  Or  (tragically)  can  it  be  that  you  were  spying 
upon  Jack  and  me? 

MRS.  S.  Why  didn't  Jack  come  in  for  a  cup  of  choco- 
late? 

BETTY  (crossing  to  RITA  at  fireplace)*  Dear  Auntie,  how 
could  he  know  of  such  midnight  dissipation?  Anyway,  I 
thought  it  was  time  for  him  to  go. 

RUTH  (coming  to  chair  R.  2  E.  and  seating  herself).  So, 
I  suppose  he  went — 

BETTY  (languidly  sinking  into  desk  chair  and  slipping  her 
coat  from  her  shoulders) .  A  soldier's  first  duty  is  obedience. 

RITA  (crossing  room  and  dragging  hassock  down  R. 
toward  C.).  Well,  Betty,  it  has  been  one  grand,  glorious 
engagement  party.  I'd  be  the  cockiest  girl  in  America  if  I 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.        9 

could  be  so  launched  upon  the  sea  of  matrimony.  (Throws 
coat  from  hassock  to  back  of  chair  R.  2  E.  and  seats  herself 
on  hassock.) 

BETTY.  Dear  child,  your  figure  of  speech  is  poor. 
"Launched  upon  the  sea  of  rrratrmony"  might  appeal  to  the 
prospective  wife  of  a  naval  officer,  but  it  doesn't  make  a  hit 
with  anyone  who  intends  to  marry  an  army  man. 

RITA.  Well,  then,  how  does  "Plunged  upon  the  battle- 
field" do? 

BETTY.  Savors  too  much  of  domestic  warfare.  Try 
again. 

RITA.     My,  but  you're  hard  to  please. 

BETTY.  Why  shouldn't  I  be  ?  It's  no  small  responsibility 
to  live  up  to  a  man  who  has  more  virtues  even  than  brass 
buttons.  (Holds  out  hand  and  flashes  her  engagement 
ring.) 

MRS.  S. (laughingly).  My  dear,  my  dear,  do  you  realize 
that  every  engaged  girl  since  the  beginning  of  time  has  given 
the  world  this  very  sentiment,  expressed  in  different  words? 

BETTY.  Oh,  no,  Auntie ;  you're  mstaken.  No  other  en- 
gaged girl  has  ever  had  such  an  inspiration  for  rhapsodies. 

RUTH  (shrugging  her  shoulders).  Just  you  wait.  Brass 
buttons  tarnish. 

BETTY  (composedly).  Not  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
can't  be  polished  up. 

ALICE.  And  if  you  don't  mind  my  saying  so,  mere  sins 
of  omission  would  rather  get  on  my  nerves. 

BETTY.  You  prefer  one  of  commission,  I  suppose.  Well, 
at  present  I  should  too — at  least  the  military  commission 
that  has  its  origin  in  Washington.  For  just  as  soon  as  that 
comes — presto,  change — we  jump  upon  the  honeymoon  ex- 
press and  dash  away  into  the  Land  of  Connubial  Bliss. 

RITA  (groaning).  More  figures  of  speech.  My  head  is 
reeling  from  them. 

BETTY.  And  my  feet  are  still  keeping  time  to  that  last 
delicious  dance.  (Rises  and  rushes  to  MRS.  SHERMAN.) 
Up,  Auntie.  Hie  you  to  the  piano  and  we'll  have  a  final 
whirl  in  honor  of  the  day!  (MRS.  SHERMAN  protests  but  is 
dragged  by  all  four  to  the  piano.  She  strikes  up  a  spirited 


10       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

time  and  the  four  girls  engage  in  a  gay  modern  dance  ivhich 
is  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  HANNAH,  L.  U.  E.,  with 
a  tea  cart  bearing  chocolate  pot,  cups  and  saucers  and  nap- 
kins.} 

MRS.  S.  {reseating  herself  at  C.).  Hannah,  you've  saved 
the  day — or  is  it  night  ?  For  something  to  drink  is  the  only 
thing  that  will  settle  this  mad  crowd. 

RITA.  Something  to  drink  usually  has  the  opposite  effect 
I've  been  told.  Beware,  my  friends,  of  too  much  Christmas 
spirit.  (The  girls  seat  themselves  as  before.  HANNAH 
wheels  cart  R.  of  MRS.  SHERMAN,  passes  the  chocolate  and 
then,  at  a  nod  from  MRS.  SHERMAN,  u'itli drains  L.  U.  E.) 

ALICE  (after  a  pause).    Oh,  I  just  hate  to  go  to  bed! 

RUTH.    Who  dares  to  say  anything  about  bed? 

ALICE.     Well,  we're  obliged  to  go  sometime,  aren't  we? 

RUTH.  I  don't  want  to  think  that  this  day  can  ever 
end.  It's  been  just  one  succession  of  wonderful  events  ever 
since  we  emptied  our  stockings  early  this  morning. 

ALICE.  All  due  to  our  hostesses.  Any  particular  joy  that 
Betty  doesn't  think  of,  Mrs.  Sherman  does. 

MRS.  S.  That's  prettily  said,  Alice.  Will  you  allow  the 
hostesses  to  say  that  seldom  have  they  had  such  inspiration 
for  their  efforts? 

ALICE.     That's  prettily  said,  too. 

RITA.  This  house  is  a  delight  to  me — something  new  and 
interesting  each  day.  Why,  I  can  scarcely  close  my  un- 
worthy eyes  in  sleep  for  looking  at  my  particular  bed.  Imag- 
ine sleeping  with  the  hours  carved  above  your  head,  festoons 
of  poppies  at  your  feet  and  two  dear  cherubs  for  foot  posts 
—one  with  finger  on  mouth  to  represent  silence,  the  other 
holding  an  hour  glass  to  remind  you  that  tempus  fugit.  . 

MRS.  S.  A  Florentine  bed.  It  has  been  in  the  family 
since  the  beginning  of  time. 

RUTH.     There's  a  real  Chippendale  desk  in  my  room. 

BETTY.  Belonged  to  a  literary  ancestor,  dear.  She  wrote 
such  gems  as  "Lines  on  a  Fallen  Leaf"  and  ''After  Dancing 
with  A.  B.  C." 

ALICE.  Well,  I  wouldn't  trade  the  little  old-fashioned 
worktable  in  my  room  for  all  of  that.  It  has  brass  snuffers — 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       11 

MRS.  S.  And  was  the  property  of  my  grandmother.  If 
you  peep  into  the  little  drawer,  you'll  find  the  thimble  she 
used  when  fashioning  all  the  dainty  bits  that  went  into  her 
wedding  chest. 

RITA  (rising  and  walking  toward  mantel).  Everything 
has  a  history — that's  what  makes  it  all  so  thrilling.  Why, 
I  suppose  even  this  candlestick  has  been  soaked  with  asso- 
ciations. (Takes  candlestick  from  mantel.) 

BETTY.     More  likely  with  candle  grease. 

MRS.  S.  Those  identical  candlesticks,  Rita,  were  used  by 
Lafayette  when  he  passed  the  night  at  the  home  of  our 
Revolutionary  ancestor. 

BETTY.  Notice  that  we  say  our  Revolutionary  ancestor — 
singular  number.  Most  of  our  progenitors  were  hot,  pep- 
pery, old-fashioned  Tories,  and  this  particular  patriot  stands 
forth  "fair  as  a  star,  when  only  one  is  shining  in  the  sky." 

RUTH  (rising  and  placing  cup  and  saucer  on  tea  cart). 
The  old  mirror  is  my  favorite.  (Goes  to  mirror  above 
table.)  I  wonder  how  many  belles  of  ancient  days  it  has 
reflected. 

BETTY.  Lots  of  'em — our  family  has  always  been  fond 
of  primping. 

ALICE.  The  lady  above  the  mantel  is  downright  magnifi- 
cent. She  takes  my  breath  away. 

BETTY.  Quite  so.  She  took  away  her  husband's,  too. 
When  he  came  to  die  he  had  no  fear  of  the  King  of  Ter- 
rors— he  had  lived  with  the  Queen  too  long. 

MRS.  S.  (reprovingly).  Betty!  Betty!  What  will  the  girls 
think !  Alice,  the  lady  in  question  simply  lived  ahead  of  her 
time  and  was  correspondingly  assertive,  efficient  and — we 
must  admit  it — domestically  tyrannical.  Her  youngest  son 
came  to  America  and  founded  this  branch  of  the  family. 
(Places  cup  on  tea  cart.) 

RITA  (placing  cup  and  saucer  on  tea  cart).  Whose  picture 
is  above  the  desk?  (Seats  herself  R.  2  E.) 

BETTY.  That  is  the  youngest  son,  previously  mentioned. 
He  was  a  gay  old  sport  according  to  reports.  Slew  Indians 
by  the  ten  thousands,  burned  witches  with  impunity,  was 


12       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

a  terror  of  the  road  on  week  days  and  a  pillar  of  the  church 
on  the  Sabbath. 

MRS.  S.     Betty,  stop  your  nonsense  and  ring  for  Hannah. 

BETTY  (rising).  But  I  like  him  just  the  same — for  he 
had  the  courage  of  his  convictions  and  established  his  rights 
in  this  new  world.  (Pushes  button).  I  like  men  who  ac- 
complish things — who  fight  for  what  they  want — who  stand 
for  real  principles — who — (hesitates) 

ALICE.     Wear  brass  buttons. 

BETTY.     Exactly.     How  did  you  guess  it? 

RUTH  (seating  herself  on  hassock).  Don't  stop  the  illus- 
trated lecture,  but  tell  me  about  her.  (Points  to  picture 
above  sofa.) 

BETTY  (curtsying).  Allow  me  to  introduce  Elizabeth 
Drew,  my  great-great-grandmother,  of  whom  I  am  the  un- 
worthy namesake.  Step  up  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  take 
a  closer  view. 

Enter  HANNAH  L.  U.  E.  She  takes  BETTY'S  extended 
cup,  also  ALICE'S  and  places  them  on  the  tea-cart,  lingering 
as  she  does  so. 

RITA  (enthusiastically).  Isn't  it  delicious?  All  that  you 
need  to  make  everything  quite  perfect  is  a  ghost — oh  yes, 
and  a  secret  passage. 

MRS.  S.     Suppose  we  tell  you  that  we  have  them  both. 

RITA  (clasping  her  hands).    Really? 

BETTY.  Every  well  regulated  family  has  a  ghost,  al- 
though I  believe  it's  usually  called  the  skeleton  in  the  closet. 

RITA.     But  a  real  ghost — a  real  secret  passage — 

MRS.  S.  And  a  real  story!  (Glances  at  HANNAH,  who 
stands  back  of  her.}  Suppose  we  have  Hannah  tell  us 
about  it. 

RUTH  (rsing  and  pushing  HANNAH  on  hassock).  A  story 
• — a  story!  Sit  right  here.  (As  HANNAH  resists.)  Oh,  you 
must — you  must!  (HANNAH  glances  inquiringly  at  MRS. 
SHERMAN.) 

MRS.  S.  (nodding).  Yes — you  must.  It's  just  the  story 
for  Christmas  night.  (RUTH  crosses  back  of  C.  and  sits 
on  floor  L.  of  MRS.  SHERMAN.) 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       13 

RITA.  But  I  want  to  hear  of  the  ghost — the  secret  pas- 
sage and — 

BETTY  (seating  herself  on  piano  bench  by  ALICE).  Dear 
child,  it  is  Christmas,  ghost  and  secret  passage  all  rolled 
into  one — and  only  Hannah  can  describe  the  bargain  in  sat- 
isfactory terms. 

HANNAH.  You  see,  Miss  Rita,  my  mother  was  hous- 
keeper  in  the  Drew  family  and  her  mother  before  her.  The 
stories  have  been  told  me  so  often  that  it's  natural  for  me 
to  feel  a  part  of  them  all. 

MRS.  S.  Just  as  it's  natural  for  the  Drew  family  to  feel 
that  grandmother,  mother  and  daughter  have  been  very  in- 
dispensable to  its  welfare  and  happiness. 

HANNAH  (smoothing  her  apron).  It  was  in  1776,  you  re- 
member, that — 

ALICE  (interrupting).  Now,  Hannah,  begin  with  "Once 
upon  a  time" — that  makes  it  a  real  story. 

HANNAH.  Well,  once  upon  a  time  Mistress  Elizabeth 
Drew  lived  in  this  very  house  with  her  mother  and  two 
sisters — and  a  very  wilful  and  independent  young  lady  she 
was — 

RUTH  (interrupting).  Now  we  understand  why  Betty 
bears  her  name. 

HANNAH.  Those  were  Revolutionary  days  and  families 
were  divided  against  each  other.  Madame  Drew  and  two  of 
her  daughters  were  strong  Tories,  but  Mistress  Elizabeth 
chose  to  differ  and  became  a  staunch  little  rebel.  To  make 
matters  worse,  her  lover  joined  General  Washington's 
forces. 

RITA  (sighing).  Another  soldier  lover!  It  does  run  in 
the  family. 

HANNAH.  The  British  had  set  the  Hessians  to  guard 
Trenton  and  on  Christmas  night,  1776,  there  had  been  great 
carousal  in  the  camp,  for  they  were  given  to  cards  and  drink. 
Washington,  as  you  remember,  chose  this  night  to  cross  the 
Delaware  and  surprise  the  Hessians,  and  as  a  sort  of  spy 
he  sent  on  this  patriot  lover  of  Mistress  Elizabeth,  who  was 
to  find  the  weak  places  in  the  camp  of  the  enemy  and  report 
to  the  general  at  the  moment  of  his  landing — 


14       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

ALICE.     Don't  tell  me  he  was  drowned — or  shot,  or — 

BETTY.  Of  course  not,  silly.  How  could  there  be  a  story 
without  the  hero  ? 

HANNAH.  A  Christmas  ball  had  been  given  in  the  town, 
from  which  Madame  Drew  and  her  daughters  returned  very 
late.  Hot  words  had  been  said  about  the  patriot  cause  and 
Mistress  Elizabeth  was  in  a  defiant  mood.  So,  when  a  trusty 
little  maid  told  her  that  her  young  lover  was  lurking  around 
trying  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her,  she  forgot  the  danger  of  his 
being  there  in  a  Tory  house,  opened  that  door  (pointing  to 
L.  U.  E.)  and  called  him  in,  while  the  little  maid  kept  guard. 
(She  pauses,  girls  come  closer  in  their  interest.)  Now,  John 
Harvey — for  that  was  his  name — was  a  very  foolish  fellow, 
for  after  he  had  found  out  what  he  wished  to  know  about 
the  Hessians  and  where  the  camp  was  open  to  attack,  he 
would  have  been  quite  safe  had  he  kept  hidden.  But  no,  he 
must  get  a  word  with  his  lady,  and  being  young  and  very 
much  in  love,  he  ventured  forth. 

RUTH.  If  he  hadn't  we  shouldn't  have  had  the  story. 
Go  on,  Hannah. 

HANNAH.  Hardly  had  he  told  Mistress  Elizabeth  of  his 
important  mission  and  important  news  and  how  he  feared 
pursuit,  when  the  little  maid  rushed  in,  shaking  with  fright, 
and  declaring  that  the  house  was  being  watched  by  two 
Tory  soldiers.  Then,  I  have  no  doubt,  Master  Harvey  re- 
alized how  foolhardy  he  had  been  and  how  he  had  no  right 
to  risk  his  life  unnecessarily  when  he  was  in  his  country's 
service.  There  was  the  clank  of  a  sword,  the  sound  of  a 
footstep — (BETTY  rises  noiselessly  and  goes  to  witch  R.  of 
door  in  F.) — the  flash  of  a  lantern — (BETTY  turns  off  the 
lights). 

MRS.  S.  (in  alarm).    Why — (turning  around)  Betty! 

BETTY  (raising  her  finger).  Sh-h-h !  We  are  now  ap- 
proaching the  first  mention  of  the  secret  passage.  We  shall 
soon  have  our  first  news  of  the  ghost.  It  is  right,  seemly 
and  most  appropriate  that  we  be  in  utter  darkness.  (Stands 
back  of  MRS.  SHERMAN.) 

HANNAH.  Mistress  Elizabeth  had  to  think  for  two.  So 
her  mind  turned  to  the  secret  passage,  knowing  that  it  led  to 


BY  WAY  OF  THE 'SECRET  PASSAGE.       15 

the  lower  garden  where  the  horse  was  tethered.  In  a  jiffy 
she  started  him  on  his  way,  then  slid  back  the  panel  into  its 
proper  place  and  waited.  Soon  came  a  pistol  shot,  another ; 
then  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  on  the  smooth,  hard-trodden 
snow,  and  the  knowledge  that  the  Tory  soldiers  were  hot  in 
pursuit. 

RITA.     Then  I  supposed  she  fainted. 

HANNAH.  Not  Miss  Elizabeth.  She  had  too  much  at 
stake.  Her  lover  was  due  to  report  to  Washington.  Sup- 
pose he  had  been  captured,  or  wounded,  or  killed !  What  of 
the  message?  Without  hesitation  she  threw  a  long,  dark 
coat  over  her  ball  dress  and  entered  the  secret  passage. 

RITA.     Bully  for  her — 

ALICE.     Oh,  the  story — quick,  quick ! 

HANNAH.  Well,  Master  Harvey  was  wounded  and  cap- 
tured ;  but  he  managed  to  escape  and  arrive  at  headquarters 
a  few  moments  after  Mistress  Elizabeth,  had  given  the  mes- 
sage. Of  course  there  was  only  one  end  to  the  story.  So 
the  two  were  wedded  immediately  with  the  good  General's 
blessing.  (Rises.) 

RUTH.     Did  they  live  happily  ever  after? 

HANNAH.  So  happily  that  every  Christmas  night  their 
ghosts  come  back  to  this  very  room.  (Moves  to  L.  U.  E. 
with  tea  cart.)  And  now,  Mrs.  Sherman,  allowing  me  to 
say  it,  all  of  you  should  go  to  bed. 

RITA.  Bed,  after  knowing  that  the  ghosts  are  here — right 
now?  (Looks  over  shoulder.} 

ALICE.  Don't  look  so  supernatural,  Rita.  You  make  the 
creeps  go  up  and  down  my  spine.  Oh,  do  let's  go  to  bed. 

BETTY  (turning  on  lights  and  yawning}.  So  say  we  all 
of  us. 

RITA  (rising  and  seising  both  of  BETTY'S  hands}.  Not  a 
step !  Betty,  do  ydu  know  where  that  secret  passage  is  ? 

BETTY.     I  certainly  do. 

RITA.     Then  tell  me — this  minute — or — 

BETTY.     Or  what? 

RITA.     I'll  invoke  the  spirit  of  your  ancestress. 

BETTY.  According  to  tradition,  she's  already  here.  You 
can't  scare  me — 


16       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

RITA.  Then  tell  me,  Betty — where  is  the  secret  passage  ? 
(Looks  curiously  around.} 

BETTY.     Tomorrow  I'll  demonstrate — but  not  tonight. 

RITA.     Then  I'll  find  out  for  myself.     I  will,  I  will! 

HANNAH  (at  L.  U.  E.}.  Good  night,  Mrs.  Sherman. 
Good  night,  young  ladies. 

ALL.     Good  night. 

RUTH.  And  think  up  another  story  for  tomorrow,  Han- 
nah. (Exit  HANNAH,  L.  U.  E.} 

MRS.  S.  (rising  and  taking  coat  from  piano}.  I'll  let  you 
all  sleep  extra  late  in  the  morning  so  that  we  may  make  up 
for  this  extra  dissipation. 

RITA.  Oh  please,  Mrs.  Sherman — please,  Betty — please, 
everybody — let  me  sleep  here  tonight.  Why,  it's  a  chance 
that  will  never  come  my  way  again,  and  I'd  never  forgive 
myself  if  I  refused  to  hobnob  with  a  ghost.  Think  of  what 
I  might  add  to  science — think  of  the  data  upon  spiritual- 
ism I  might  give  to  the  world. 

MRS.  S.  And  think  of  the  nervous  wreck  I'd  have  on  my 
hands.  No  my  dear,  your  rest  is  worth,  more  than  any  tra- 
ditional ghost.  (Moves  around,  straightens  pilloivs,  etc.} 

ALICE  (rising,  taking  coat  and  walking  toward  R.  of  C. 
in  F.)  Anyway,  there's  no  place  to  sleep. 

RITA  (leaning  over  back  of  chair  at  C.}.  This  is  as  good 
as  any  bed. 

BETTY  (taking  RITA'S  coat  from  chair  at  R.  2  E.  and 
throwing  it  around  RITA'S  shoulders).  Better  than  your 
Florentine  bed?  Heresy! 

ALICE  (turning  and  yawning}.  Oh,  hurry  up!  (BETTY 
takes  RITA  by  ear  and  inarches  her  R.  of  C.  in  F.) 

MRS.  S.  (hurrying  to  mantel}.  Wait,  Rita!  (BETTY  and 
RITA  turn.  MRS.  SHERMAN  takes  candlestick  from  mantel 
and  lights  it.}  As  a  peace  offering,  take  Lafayette's  candle 
and  light  yourself  to  bed.  (Hands  candlestick  to  RITA.) 

RUTH  (rising,  crossing  to  sofa  and  throwing  her  coat 
over  her  arm}.  Wait,  and  let  me  guard  the  other  side  of 
the  prisoner.  (Exeunt  RUTH  and  BETTY  until  RITA  between 
them,  R.  of  C.  in  F.} 

MRS.  S.   (with  hand  on  electric  light  switch):     Ready, 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       17 

Alice?  (ALICE  nods  and  goes  out  R.  of  C.  in  F.)  Then 
out  goes  the  light.  (Turns  out  light  and  exit  R.  of  C.  in  F. 
Stage  clear.) 

BETTY  (behind  the  scenes).  "How  far  this  little  candle 
throws  its  beams !"  Look  out  for  that  step,  Ruth.  (Sound 
as  if  climbing  steps.) 

RUTH  (plaintively).  Oh,  please  hurry.  I'm  so  sleepy 
that — (fretfully)  stop  poking  me,  Alice. 

ALICE.     Well,  the  ghost  is  poking  me. 

RUTH.     Ghosts  don't  poke. 

ALICE.     And  .1  can  feel  it  brush  past  me.     Ugh ! 

BETTY.  Don't  call  my  famous  ancestress  it.  She  objects 
and  I  object.  Here's  your  door,  Rita — 

RITA.     I — want  to — sleep  downstairs — 

BETTY.  Nay,  nay,  fair  love.  Good  night  and  pleasant 
dreams.  (Sound  of  door  being  shut.) 

RUTH  (sleeply  singing)  Good  night,  ladies !  (The  others 
take  up  the  strain,  sing  through  one  verse — the  sound  grad- 
ually dies  ai(.<ay.  Silence  for  a  few  moments.) 

Enter  RITA,  R.  of  C.  in  F.  in  fancy  negligee  and  slippers, 
hair  unbound,  carrying  the  lighted  candle.  She  peers  ner- 
vously around,  pulls  shades  doztm  as  far  as  possible,  glances 
in  mirror,  holding  the  light  high  above  her  head  and  finally 
seats  herself  in  chair  at  C.  Once  more  she  turns  nervously 
around,  then  blows  out  the  candle,  sets  the  candlestick  on 
the  floor  and  cuddles  into  the  chair. 

CURTAIN. 


18  BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 


ACT   II. 

SCENE  I :  Same  setting  as  in  Act  I  with  a  few  changes. 
An  old-fashioned  piano  and  stool,  if  possible,  should  take 
the  place  of  the  more  modern  instrument.  The  rase  of 
flowers,  the  switch  for  electric  lights,  the  call  button  and 
all  modern  trifles  should  be  removed.  Curtains  of  the  colo- 
nial days  should  be  at  the  windows.  Lighted  candles  on 
mantel  and  lamps  or  candelabra  on  pianv  and  table  should 
furnish  the  light.  If  Christmas  greens  are  used  in  both 
acts,  the  arrangement  in  Act  II  should  be  different  from 
that  in  Act  I.  Stage  is  clear  and  well  illuminated  at  rise. 

ELIZABETH  enters  hastily  from  R.  of  C.  in  F.  and  crosses 
to  C.,  where  she  stands,  throwing  her  cape  to  chair  and  defi- 
antly pulling  off  her  gloves.  She  is  followed  by  MADAME 
DREW,  ANNETTE  and  CAROLINE.  ANNETTE  and  CAROLINE 
throw  their  long  capes  on  sofa.  MADAME  DREW  folloivs 
ELIZABETH  to  C. 

ELIZABETH.  No,  mother,  I  shall  never  again  drink  a 
toast  to  His  Majesty  the  King — never!  (Stamping  foot.) 
Never!  I — 

MADAME  DREW  (angrily).  Elizabeth!  (Sinks  on  chair 
R.  2  E.) 

ELIZABETH.  I  couldn't  be  true  to  my  conscience  and  pro- 
pose the  health  of  a  man  who  has  tried  to  crush  the  spirit 
of  liberty  in  his  own  people,  to  dictate  where  he  should  only 
advise — who  is  a  narrow,  selfish  tyrant — who — 

ANNETTE  (rushing  to  ELIZABETH  and  placing  hand  over 
her  mouth).  Hush,  Elizabeth,  hush!  You  must  not  say 
such  things — you  must  be  more  careful  or  something  will 
happen,  somebody  will  hear — 

ELIZABETH  (sarcastically).  "Something  will  happen, 
somebody  will  hear!"  Annette,  do  you  think  I'm  afraid! 

CAROLINE  (angrily).  Well,  you  will  be,  when  a  red- 
coated  soldier  comes  your  way! 

ELIZABETH  (tossing  her  head).  Oh,  no  I  won't,  Caroline. 
There'll  be  a  blue  and  buff  one  to  rescue  me. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       19 

MADAME  D.  Elizabeth,  this  nonsense  must  stop.  We 
have  endured  enough  from  you,  and  only  our  position  as  a 
family,  together  with  our  recognized  loyalty  to  the  king,  has 
saved  you  from  unpleasant  situations.  Fortunately  people 
regard  this  attitude  of  yours  as  the  harmless  poise  of  an 
emotional  girl. 

ELIZABETH.  Oh,  do  they !  Then  it's  my  duty  to  let  them 
know  that  the  poise  consists  of  decided  opinions ;  that — 

CAROLINE  (interrupting'}.  Please  don't  disgrace  us  pub- 
licly again.  (Seats  herself  on  sofa.)  Tonight,  when  you 
refused  to  drink  the  toast  to  the  king,  I  could  have  died 
with  mortification. 

ANNETTE.  It  was  worse  than  meeting  the  enemy.  (Flops 
on  the  piano  stool.} 

ELIZABETH.  The  only  enemy  that  you  fear,  my  dear 
sister,  is,  "What  will  people  say?" 

MADAME  D.  Public  opinion  is  not  to  be  scorned.  Eliz- 
abeth, you  are  the  daughter  of  a  house  whose  loyalty 
to  royal  word  has  been  traditional ;  whose  every  associ- 
ation has  been  identical  with  that  of  the  mother  country. 
You  are  making  no  requital  when  you  pledge  your  adher- 
ence to  a  rebellious  faction. 

ELIZABETH  (kneeling  by  her).  Mother,  can't  you  un- 
derstand that  it  is  a  question  of  principles  with  me? 

MADAME  D.  Principles !  Nonsense.  You  should  have 
no  principles  contrary  to  those  of  your  family. 

CAROLINE.  You  should  have  no  allegiance  to  anyone 
save  the  King! 

ELIZABETH  (rising).  The  King  (Scornfully.)  The 
King!  Let  him  be  careful  or  he'll  forfeit  the  name.  Tyr- 
anny cost  one  monarch  his  head ;  another  his  throne. 
(Advances  to  C.) 

ANNETTE  (whispering).  Hush!  Someone  may  be  list- 
ening. 

ELIZABETH.     Who  cares?  I've  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of . 

CAROLINE  (spitefully).     But  we  have. 

ELIZABETH  (turning).     Meaning — me? 

CAROLINE.  Meaning — you.  It  is  not  reasonable  to  sup- 
pose that  we  enthuse  over  your  conduct. 


20       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

ANNETTE.  And  we  are  not  particularly  proud  of  your 
admiration  for  a  fanatical  crowd  that  is  too  narrow-minded 
and  mercenary  to  pay  an  ordinary  tax  to  its  mother  country. 

ELIZABETH.  Do  you  think  for  a  moment  that  a  paltry 
forty  thousand  pounds  a  year  is  at  stake? 

CAROLINE.     Then  what  is  it,  pray? 

ELIZABETH.  The  right  of  petition,  the  privilege  of  self- 
taxation,  the  liberties  of  popular  assemblies.  (Leans  on 
back  of  chair.') 

MADAME  D.  Fiddlesticks !  It  all  results  in  one  thing — 
disloyalty  and  rebellion  to  the  King. 

ELIZABETH  (turning).  No,  mother.  At  the  beginning 
of  the  trouble  the  King  had  no  more  loyal  subjects  than 
those  in  America.  Had  he  recognized  the  fundamental 
principles  of  English  liberty — 

MADAME  D.  (rising  and  pulling  down  curtain  at  window 
R.  U.E.).  You're  talking  like  a  book.  What  are  the  "fun- 
damental principles  of  English  liberty,"  as  you  call  them? 

ELIZBETH.  The  substance  as  well  as  the  form  of  self- 
government. 

CAROLINE  (scornfully).  And  do  you  think  that  this 
handful  of  untrained  men  can  stand  against  the  disciplined 
troops  of  the  British? 

ELIZABETH.     Wait  and  see. 

ANNETTE  (petulantly).  We  are  waiting.  The  result 
will  be  that  the  rebels  will  be  placed  under  heavier  penal- 
ties for  their  insubordination,  and  that  those  who  have  been 
loyal  to  the  King  will  profit  thereby. 

ELIZABETH.     Again  I  say,  wait  and  see. 

ANNETTE.     Again  I  say,  we  are  waiting. 

CAROLINE.  Lexington  and  Concord  have  meant  nothing 
to  the  provincial  cause. 

ELIZABETH  (ironically).  The  British  made  a  splendid 
retreat.  The  Americans  could  hardly  keep  up  with  them. 

ANNETTE.  And  surely,  Bunker  Hill  was  a  British  victory. 

ELIZABETH.  It's  a  great  thing,  of  course,  to  win  from 
adversaries  who  have  no  ammunition. 

MADAME  D.  (coming  doivn  R.  to  R.  2  E.).  What  can 
you  say  of  Long  Island — White  Plains?  Why,  the  Colo- 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       21 

nists'  cause  is  already  doomed.  Their  general  has  been 
forced  to  retreat  into  Pennsylvania ;  their  troops  are  al- 
ready dwindling;  it  is  merely  a  matter  of  days  until  they 
surrender. 

ELIZABETH.  Washington  is  not  yet  beaten,  nor  is  he 
wholly  discouraged.  If  you  don't  mind  my  repeating  it, 
wait  and  see. 

MADAME  D.  It's  such  a  forlorn  hope.  It  will  mean 
nothing  but  humiliation  for  all  those  concerned.  Don't 
be  foolish,  Elizabeth. 

ELIZABETH.     Just  what  is  it  that  you  wish  me  to  do? 

ANNETTE.     Stop  talking,  for  one  thing. 

MADAME  D.  (laying  hand  on  ELIZABETH'S  arm).  Insure 
your  position  in  royalist  society  by  severing  all  interest  in 
this  mistaken  rebellion. 

CAROLINE  (sharply).    Give  up  John  Harvey. 

ELIZABETH.     And  why? 

ANNETTE.     He  isn't  your  equal. 

ELIZABETH.  His  family  is  quite  as  good  as  ours ;  a  little 
better,  if  facts  be  known. 

MADAME  D.  His  enlistment  in  the  Colonial  army  has 
forfeited  all  right  to  family  ties.  (Seats  herself  at  C.) 

ELIZABETH.  There  are  many  to  dispute  that  point, 
mother.  As  a  trusty  aide  to  General  Washington,  he  is 
quite  living  up  to  family  traditions,  I  think. 

CAROLINE.     Well,  the  question  is,  will  you  give  him  up? 

ELIZABETH.  To  that  and  all  other  requests  of  a  similar 
nature — most  decidedly,  no! 

ANNETTE  (rising).  Oh,  I'm  so  tired.  War,  war — 
everything  war !  Our  town  guarded  by  a  lot  of  Hessians — 

ELIZABETH  (interrupting).  Who  have  been  hired  by  the 
British — (scornfully)  hired! 

CAROLINE.  It  isn't  fair — it  isn't  fair!  Soldiers  instead 
of  suitors,  bugles  instead  of  serenades,  drills  instead  of— 

ANNETTE.  Minuets!  Come,  let's  have  one.  (Seises 
CAROLINE  and  pulls  her  to  her  /eet.)  Just  to  drive  away 
the  thought  and  talk  and  worry  of  it  all.  (Turning.) 
Elizabeth,  will  you  play  for  us? 


22       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

ELIZABETH.  I'm  in  no  mood  for  music.  (Crosses  and 
stands  at  side  of  piano.} 

ANNETTE.  Then,  mother.  (MADAME  DREW  protests.) 
Oh,  you  must;  you  must!  (ANNETTE  and  CAROLINE  force 
her  to  piano  stool.)  And  (glancing  at  ELIZABETH),  be 
sure  that  you  weave  into  the  music  the  strains  of  "God 
save  the  King!" 

CAROLINE  and  ANNETTE  dance  a  stately  minuet.  ELIZA- 
BETH silently  ivatches  them.  Just  before  the  end  of  the 
dance,  WENONAH,  an  Indian  maid,  appears  in  the  door- 
ivay  R.  of  C.  in  F.  and  stands  irresolute,  unseen  by  all 
save  ELIZABETH.  ELIZABETH,  seeing  her,  starts  forward, 
but  WENONAH  lays  a  finger  upon  her  lips  in  token  of  si- 
lence and  quietly  withdraws. 

MADAME  D.  (rising  from  piano).  Not  another  note, 
girls.  We're  all  tired  and  surely  you've  had  enough  danc- 
ing for  one  night.  To  bed,  all  of  you.  (CAROLINE  and 
ANNETTE  listlessly  take  their  coats  from  sofa  and  go 
slowly  out  of  door  R.  of  C.  in  F.,  yawning  and  talking 
together.') 

ELIZABETH.     I'll  put  out  the  lights  mother. 

Enter  WENONAH,  R.  of  C.  in  F. 

ELIZABETH.     Here's  Wenonah,  and  she'll  help  me. 

MADAME  D.  (seeing  WENONAH).  Why  are  you  up, 
Wenonah?  Surely  your  mistress  can  do  without  you  on 
this  particular  night. 

ELIZABETH  (hastily).  It's  Wenonah's  pleasure  to  wait 
for  me.  Perhaps  she  wants  to  hear  about  the  ball. 

MADAME  D.  Hasten,  then,  and  be  sure  that  the  windows 
are  fastened.  There  are  many  marauding  soldiers  these 
nights  and  one  can't  be  too  particular.  Good-night,  Eliza- 
beth, and  think  carefully  over  what  has  been  said  to  you. 
(Exit  R.  of  C.  in  F.) 

(ELIZABETH  stands  motionless  for  a  few  moments  until 
all  is  still,  then  seises  WENONAH  and  draws  her  to  C.) 

ELIZABETH.     Wenonah,  what  is  it? 

WENONAH.     He  waits — there.     (Points  outside.) 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.  23 

ELIZABETH  (excitedly).  He — John?  No,  you  are  mis- 
taken. 

WKNONAH  (shaking  head).  No — he — wait.  He  say  put 
light  in  window  when  alone.  (ELIZABETH  seises  candle  from 
mantel  and  rushes  to  window.  She  is  about  to  place  it  in 
ivindow,  when  WENONAH  catches  her  arm.)  No — danger. 
I  tell  him — I  bring  him — (inquiringly)  here? 

ELIZABETH  (replacing  candle  on  mantel).  Here,  We- 
nonah — here.  Quickly — quickly.  (Exit  WENONAH,  L.  U.  E.) 

In  a  few  moments  she  reappears,  ushering  in  JOHN 
HARVEY,  wearhig  a  long  army  cape,  high  boots  and  a  hat 
pulled  over  his  eyes. 

ELIZABETH  (holding  out  hands).    John — John! 

JOHN  (throwing  off  hat  and  rushing  to  her).  Betty! 
Oh,  it's  worth  a  thousand  risks  just  to  see  you  again ; 
just  to  hear  your  voice — just  to  know  that  it's  you ! 

ELIZABETH  (anxiously).  A  thousand  risks,  John.  What 
do  you  mean  ?  Are  you  in  danger  ? 

JOHN.  A  man  is  seldom  out  of  danger  these  days, 
Betty.  I'm  just  in  a  little  more  deeply  tonight — that's  all. 

ELIZABETH.     You  mean — 

JOHN.     I've  been  followed. 

ELIZABETH  (going  to  WENONAH,  who  is  standing  L.  U. 
E.).  Wenonah,  watch  outside — watch  carefully.  Keep 
hidden,  and  if  you  see  a  soldier — a  soldier,  Wenonah — or  a 
stranger,  come  back  and  let  us  know.  Do  you  under- 
stand ? 

WENONAH.     I — understand.     (ExitL.U.E.) 

ELIZABETH  (pushing  JOHN  in  chair  at  C.).  Sit  there. 
Rest  while  you  can.  (Drags  hassock  from  R.  U.  E.  beside 
him  and  seats  herself).  Now,  tell  me  all.  Why  are  you 
here  ?  Why — 

JOHN.  I  must  tell  you  quickly,  for  there  is  only  a  mo- 
ment. Washington  is  crossing  the  Delaware  now  and  he 
will  attack  the  Hessians'  camp  early  this  morning.  He 
sent  me  on  to  find  the  weak  places  in  the  defence  of  the 
camp.  I  am  to  report  to  him  upon  his  landing. 

ELIZABETH.     He  sent  \ou — he  trusted  vou  that  much ! 


24       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

JOHN.  The  Hessians  are  in  the  midst  of  high  carousal. 
The  camp  is  carelessly  guarded.  (Takes  paper  from 
pocket  and  points  as  he  explains.}  See  here — and  here — 
and  here  an  attacking  army  might  easily  enter  and  as 
easily  overwhelm.  (ELIZABETH  takes  the  paper  and  closely 
examines  it.}  It  is  our  chance — our  chance — and  we  must 
not  fail. 

ELIZABETH.     You  said  you  were  followed. 

JOHSN.  I  was ;  but  they've  lost  my  trail.  One  would 
hardly  look  for  a  Continental  soldier  in  a  Tory  house,  I'm 
thinking. 

ELIZABETH.  Oh,  I  wish  it  were  not  a  Tory  house,  John. 
I  truly  do. 

JOHN.  You're  a  brave  little  rebel,  Betty,  and  I  know 
you  have  many  battles  to  fight  these  days. 

ELIZABETH.  Oh,  I  do,  John.  I  do.  They  can't  under- 
stand. 

JOHN  (quickly}.  They  can't  accept  your  standard — and 
they  won't  accept  me.  Is  that  it?  (ELIZABETH  nods.}  Are 
you  sorry,  Betty,  that  you've  championed  our  cause — that 
you've  cast  your  lot  with  mine? 

ELIZABETH  (proudly}.  Sorry?  Sorry,  when  I  know 
I'm  on  the  side  of  right?  When  just  having  you  has  made 
me  the  proudest  and  happiest  girl  in  the  United — States- — 
that — is — to— be  ? 

JOHN  (bending  over  her}.     Betty — Betty! 

ELIZABETH.  Is  everything  so  desperate  as  they  tell  me? 
Is  the  enemy  so  strong? 

JOHN.  We've  had  dark  days,  Betty,  but  brighter  ones 
are  coming,  and  nothing  is  impossible  with  General  Wash- 
ington at  our  head.  Think  of  him  now,  crossing  that 
frozen  river — dauntless  amid  discouragements  and  dangers 
that  would  crush  any  other  man. 

ELIZABETH.  And  trusting  you  to  help  him  in  this  great 
move.  Oh,  I'm  proud,  John;  very  proud.  (Looks  at 
paper.}  This  means  much  to  him,  doesn't  it? 

JOHN.     It  means  almost  the  certainty  of  victory. 

Enter  WENONAH,  L.  U.  E. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       25 

ELIZABETH  (rising).    Wenonah,  what  is  it? 

WENONAH  (in  terror).  Horses  down  there.  (Point- 
ing.) Soldiers  around  house — listening — watching. 

JOHN  (rising).  They've  tracked  me.  I'm  sorry,  Betty. 
It's  hard  on  you  and  I  should  never  have  risked  this  chance 
of  seeing  you. 

ELIZABETH.  Oh,  John,  it's  of  you  I'm  thinking — you 
and  the  message. 

JOHN  (grimly).  Not  for  a  moment  will  I  fail,  Betty. 
My  hpnor  is  at  stake.  The  country  is  in  need,  and  noth- 
ing shall  stop  me.  (Takes  hat  and  prepares  to  go  L.  U.  E.) 

ELIZABETH  (catching  his  arm).  John,  you  can't  go  that 
way.  It  will  mean  death  to  you.  Wait.  Let  me  think. 
(Suddenly.)  Where  is  your  horse? 

JOHN.     Down  in  the  garden. 

ELIZABETH  (excitedly).  Then  I  can  save  you!  I  can 
save  you !  Look !  (Rushes  to  mantel,  touches  spring  and 
slides  back  the  panel,  revealing  secret  passage.)  This  is 
the  secret  passage  of  our  house.  It  leads  to  the  garden. 
Here  (places  lighted  candle  in  JOHN'S  hand),  follow  the 
path — it  will  take  you  to  the  summer  house.  They  will 
not  be  watching  for  you  there.  You  can  make  your  escape. 
Oh,  hurry,  hurry!  QOHN  enters  passage.) 

JOHN    (turning).     Bless  you,  Betty — and  goodbye! 

ELIZABETH.  Goodbye,  John — goodbye.  (Shuts  panel.) 
Watch,  Wenonah,  watch.  (Exit  WENONAH,  L.  U.  E.) 

There  is  a  tense  silence  for  several  moments.  Then  a 
pistol  shot  rings  out — another  and  still  another.  WENONAH 
rushes  in  from  L.  U.  E. 

WENONAH.     They  follow — they  shoot! 

ELIZABETH  (to  herself).  If  they  wound  him,  if  they 
capture  him,  what  of  the  message?  (Glances  at  paper 
which  she  still  holds  in  her  hand.)  The  General  must 
know.  John's  honor  must  be  saved.  The  country  must 
not  suffer.  (Suddenly.)  Wenonah,  my  coat.  (Pointing 
.to  R.  of  C.  in  F.)  There — the  long  black  one.  (Exit  WE- 
NONAH R.  of  C.  in  F.,  returning  almost  immediately  ^vith 
coat.  ELIZABETH  throws  it  around  herself ,  places  paper  in 
her  bodice,  takes  the  other  candle  from  the  mantel.) 


26       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

Come,    Wenonah!      (Enters   secret    passage   followed    by 
WENONAH.     The  panel  slides  back.} 

(Here  the  curtain  is  loivered  for  a  moment  to  indicate  the 
passing  of  a  few  hours.} 

SCENE  II.  The  same  as  Scene  I.  At  rise,  MADAME  DREW 
is  seated  at  R.  2  E.  with  sewing.  CAROLINE  is  reclining 
upon  sofa.  ANNETTE  is  at  piano.  Stage  brightly  illumi- 
nated, since  it  is  noon. 

CAROLINE  (sitting  upright}.  Do  stop  that  strumming, 
Annette.  My  head  is  fairly  splitting. 

ANNETTE.  Due  to  the  frequency  with  which  you  drank 
the  King's  health  last  night.  Don't  blame  the  music. 

MADAME  D.  (reprovingly}.  Due  also  to  the  late  hour 
at  which  you  ceased  your  frivolity. 

ANNETTE  (turning  on  piano  stool}.  Early  hour,  you 
mean,  mother. 

CAROLINE  (rising  and  strolling  to  window  R.  U.  E.}. 
Did  you  hear  the  shots  last  night? 

ANNETTE  (yawn-ing}.  Which  shots?  Any  different 
from  the  shots  we're  hearing  all  the  time? 

CAROLINE.     Different  in  that  they  were  close  at  hand. 

ANNETTE  (carelessly}.  The  Hessians  were  target  prac- 
ticing, perhaps. 

CAROLINE  (ironically).  At  the  dead  of  night?  Very 
likely. 

MADAME  D.  Hot  in  pursuit  of  an  escaped  soldier,  I 
suspect. 

ANNETTE.  The  pursuit  is  a  possible  thing;  but  I  argue 
any  kind  of  hotness  on  a  Christmas  night  in  New  Jersey. 

MADAME  D.  What  a  blessing  it  is  that  our  home  is  out 
of  Trenton.  These  two  or  three  miles  take  us  far  from 
the  reminders  of  war. 

CAROLINE.  And,  incidentally,  from  the  unpleasant  neces- 
sity of  looking  at  the  Hessians.  (Shudders.)  Ugh!  How 
I  hate  them. 

ANNETTE.  I'd  never  admit  it  to  Elizabeth,  but  I  do 
think  that  England  might  have  managed  to  fight  without 
the  help  of  hired  soldiers. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       27 

MADAME  D.  Speaking  of  Elizabeth,  it's  time  for  her 
to  be  up.  There's  no  excuse  for  such  late  hours. 

CAROLINE.  She's  probably  angry  over  what  we  said 
last  night. 

ANNETTE.  More  likely  that  she's  out  on  one  of  her 
long  tramps. 

MADAME  D.  She  hasn't  breakfasted.  I've  inquired.  (Ris- 
ing.) I'll  send  Wenonah  to  waken  her. 

CAROLINE.  Oh,  no  you  won't.  Wenonah  has  departed 
— nobody  knows  where. 

MADAME  D.  Nonsense!  I  left  her  with  Elizabeth  last 
night.  They  were  about  to  put  out  the  lights. 

ANNETTE.  Put  out  the  lights?  Why,  the  housemaid 
found  the  lamps  still  burning  this  morning,  and  the  candles 
flickering  in  their  sockets. 

MADAME  D.  (going  toward  mantel).  That's  strange — 
very  strange. 

CAROLINE.  It  isn't  strange  that  Wenonah  has  left,  if 
that's  what  you  mean.  Even  her  devotion  to  Elizabeth 
couldn't  draw  her  entirely  from  her  Indian  life. 

MADAME  D.  But  to  go — without  a  word.  (Stands  by 
mantel.) 

ANNETTE  (rising).  That's  the  Indian  of  it.  Still,  she 
may  be  back  by  night  time.  Who  knows?  (Goes  to  CARO- 
LINE, R.  U.  E.) 

MADAME  D.  (sternlv).  I  shall  waken  Elizabeth  myself. 
(E.vit  R.  of  C.  in  F.) 

ANNETTE.  What  do  you  find  in  the  landscape  that's  so 
absorbing?  (Puts  arm  about  CAROLINE'S  shoulder.) 

CAROLINE.  Something  must  have  happened  in  the  town. 
Such  passing  and  repassing  on  the  road — soldiers,  towns- 
people and — 

ANNETTE.  What  a  pity  we're  no  nearer.  It's  tantal- 
izing not  to  know.  (Peers  out  windozv.) 

CAROLINE.  Shall  we  send  a  servant  to  find  out?  Or 
do  you  feel  like  playing  spy? 

Enter  MADAME  DREW,  hastily,  R.  of  C.  in  F. 


28       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

MADAME  D.  (in  agitation).  She's  not  there — she's  not 
there!-  (Advances  to  C.  hurriedly.) 

ANNETTE  (crossing  and  standing  R.  of  MADAME  DREW). 
Now,  mother,  there's  nothing-  to  make  you  so  excited.  Eliz- 
abeth doubtless  has  gone  out  on  a  morning  walk. 

MADAME  D.  But  her  bed  has  not  been  slept  in.  (Sinks 
in  chair  at  C.  CAROLINE  crosses  back  of  MADAME  DREW 
and  stands  at  her  left.) 

CAROLINE  (patting  MADAME  DREW'S  shoulder).  Before 
you  know  it  she'll  be  walking  in  with  some  adventure  to 
relate,  some — 

MADAME  D.  (interrupting).  But  the  shots  last  night — 
the  disappearance  of  Wenonah.  Something  has  happened. 
I  know  it — I  feel  it. 

ANNETTE.  The  shots?  No,  no.  (Looking  at  CARO- 
LINE.) Do  you  suppose — 

CAROLINE.     Oh,  surely  not. 

MADAME  D.  How  do  we  know  but  that  she  was  carried 
off? 

ANNETTE.  Without  a  sound?  (Looks  around.)  With- 
out any  sign  of  resistance?  (Shakes  head.)  I  can't  be- 
lieve that. 

CAROLINE.  And  why  should  anyone  carry  off  Elizabeth? 
(Suddenly.)  Unless — unless — 

MADAME  D.  (sharply).     Unless — what? 

CAROLINE.  Unless  her  reckless  talk  last  night  about  the 
King— 

MADAME  D.  (quickly).  Has  caused  her  capture?  They 
wouldn't  dare — they  wouldn't  dare — 

ANNETTE.  Oh,  yes,  they  would,  mother.  Anything  is 
dared  in  war  times. 

MADAME  D.  (proudly).     Not  by  His  Majesty's  soldiers! 

CAROLINE.     I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.   Soldiers  are  soldiers. 

ANNETTE.  And  there  is  no  such  liberty  as  free  speech — 
among  the  enemies  of  Britain. 

MADAME  D.  (in  despair).     What  are  we  to  do? 

CAROLINE.     In  Elizabeth's  own  words — wait  and  see. 

MADAME  D.-  Wait?  Do  nothing?  When  she  may,  even 
now,  be  a  captive  in  the  British  army? 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       29 

ANNETTE.     Why  the  British? 

MADAME  D.  (in  surprise).    What  do  you  mean? 

ANNETTE.  Didn't  she  say  that  if  a  red-coated  soldier 
carried  her  off,  there'd  be  a  blue  and  buff  one  to  rescue 
her? 

MADAME  D.     You  mean — John  Harvey? 

ANNETTE.     John  Harvey. 

CAROLINE  (excitedly).  Then  it  was  he  last  night  who 
came  for  her — who  was  fired  upon — who — (three  regular 
taps  sound).  What  was  that?  (Tapping  continues.) 

ANNETTE  (crossing  to  door  L.  U.  £.).  A  servant, 
doubtless.  (Opens  door,  looks  out  and  closes  it  again.) 
Xo  one  here.  (Tapping  continues.) 

CAROLINE.  The  window,  perhaps.  (Goes  to  each  win- 
dow in  turn.)  No.  (Tapping  continues.) 

MADAME  D.  (nervously).    Can  it  be  the  wind? 

CAROLINE  (gazing  out  window).    There  is  no  wind. 

MADAME  D.  This  is  not  a  natural  sound.  (Pauses. 
Tapping  continues.)  It  frightens  me.  (Crosses  L.  of  C.) 

ANNETTE  (listening).  It  conies  from  that  wall.  (Points 
toward  mantel.) 

MADAME  D.     Impossible! 

ANNETTE  (going  toward  mantel).  Something  in  the 
chimney,  perhaps. 

CAROLINE  (excitedly).  Wait — hush — let  me  listen. 
(Tapping  continues.)  That  tapping  comes  from  the  secret 
passage. 

ANNETTE.  The  secret  passage!  Someone  is  there.  (  In- 
quiringly.) Shall  I  open  it?  (MADAME  DREW  nods.  AN- 
NETTE touches  spring,  the  panel  slides,  revealing  ELIZABETH, 
still  zvearing  the  dark  coat  over  her  ball  gown.) 

MADAME  D.  (hysterically).     Elizabeth! 

ANNETTE.     Where  have  you  been? 

MADAME  D.     Why  have  you  frightened  us  this  way? 

ELIZABETH  (wearily).  Don't  ask  me  questions.  I'm  so 
tired — so  tired! 

CAROLINE  (taking  ELIZABETH'S  hand).  Come  in;  you're 
cold — you're  wet — 

ELIZABETH.     I  can't  come  in  until  I  give  my  message. 


30       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

It  isn't  a  welcome  one,  but  you  must  hear  it.  This  morn- 
ing General  Washington  surprised  the  Hessian  camp,  took 
a  thousand  prisoners  and  captured  a  thousand  stands  of 
arms.  (Steps  inside.} 

MADAME  D.     It  isn't  true — it  can't  be  true. 

ELIZABETH.     But  it  is  true.    I  saw  it.    I  was  a  part  of  it. 

MADAME  D.     Explain  yourself. 

ELIZABETH.  General  Washington  sent  John  ahead  to 
reconnoitre,  to  find  the  weak  places  in  the  camp  defence 
and  to  report  before  the  attack. 

ANNETTE.  Ah,  I  begin  to  understand.  He  came  here, 
didn't  he?  He  was  discovered — 

ELIZABETH  (excitedly).  Then  you  heard  the  shots? 
(Calming  herself.)  Yes,  he  did  come.  He  showed  me 
the  plan  of  attack,  and  when  Wrenonah  warned  him  of 
pursuit,  I  sent  him  through  the  secret  passage.  (Pauses.) 

CAROLINE  (eagerly).     And  then? 

ELIZABETH.  I  feared  his  capture.  I  feared  the  message 
would  never  reach  headquarters.  Wenonah  helped  me  sad- 
dle my  horse  and  I  rode  my  fastest  to  General  Washington. 

MADAME  D.  (angrily).  I  shall  never  forgive  you  for 
this  treachery,  Elizabeth — never! 

ELIZABETH.     Oh,  mother,  you  will  some  day — you  must! 

CAROLINE  (sarcastically).  Well,  a  pretty  sight  you  are 
and  a  fine  name  you've  made  for  yourself  after  this  mad 
performance. 

ANNETTE.  All  for  a  common  spy  who  neglects  his  duty, 
allows  himself  to  be  taken  prisoner  and — 

ELIZABETH.  Oh,  but  he  escaped.  He  rode  into  camp 
shortly  after  my  arrival.  General  Washington  makes  much 
of  him,  trusts  him,  and — 

MADAME  D.  Doubtless  laughs  at  you  for  your  ridiculous 
part  in  the  matter — for  forcing  yourself  into  affairs  that  do 
not  concern  you  or  yours. 

ELIZABETH.     Mother,  listen. 

MADAME  D.  No,  I'll  not  listen.  I  have  been  lenient 
with  you  too  long,  Elizabeth.  Henceforth  I'll  see  that  you 
are  far  removed  from  the  scenes  of  this  disgraceful  re- 
bellion. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       31 

ELIZABETH.  More  than  ever,  mother,  have  I  pledged 
my  loyalty  to  the  patriot  cause. 

MADAME  D.     How  dare  you? 

ELIZABETH.  For  not  an  hour  ago,  with  the  good  Gen- 
eral as  witness,  I  became  John  Harvey's  wife.  (All  attempt 
to  speak.)  No;  not  a  word — not  a  word!  I'm  too  happy 
for  reproaches.  This  very  room  is  full  of  sweetest  memo- 
ries and  each  Christmas  night  in  the  years  to  come  it  will 
he  haunted  by  the  happy  spirits  of  the  two  who  found 
love,  freedom  and  victory  by  way  of  the  secret  passage ! 

CURTAIN. 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  :  Same  as  Act  I.  Hassock  is  placed  R.  of  chair 
at  C.  Stage  well  lighted  as  it  is  morning. 

At  rise,  RITA  is  seated  at  C.,  ALICE  on  hassock  and 
RUTH  R.  2  E.  with  embroidery. 

RITA   (dramatically).     And  then — I  awoke! 

ALICE  (sighing).  It's  wonderful,  Rita,  perfectly  won- 
derful !  Did  you  really  see  them  ? 

RITA.  Every  one — heard  them  talk — and  almost  touched 
them. 

RUTH.  That  second  helping  to  mince  pie  yesterday  cer- 
tainly gave  you  a  large  and  elegant  nightmare.  (Emphat- 
ically.) That's  all  /  have  to  say. 

RITA.  No  nightmare  about  it.  'Twas  a  regular  con- 
nected story. 

RUTH.     With  cerebral  excitement  as  its  basis. 

RITA.  I  don't  know  what  cerebral  excitement  is,  and 
whatever  it  is,  it  isn't  what  caused  my  dream.  I  saw  all 
those  people,  I  tell  you.  I  know  what  they  said.  The 
memory  of  them  is  so  distinct  that — (breaks  off  abruptly 
and  gazes  fixedly  over  left  shoulder). 

ALICE  (nervously).    Rita,  what  is  it?    (Rises.) 

RITA.  The  little  Indian  maid — Wenonah,  they  called 
her.  (ALICE  walks  to  L.  U.  E.,  opens  door,  looks  out  and 
closes  it. 


32       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

RUTH  (rising').    Where? 

RITA  (still  gazing  into  space).  Over  by  the  door. 
(Pauses  and  then  turns  to  RUTH.)  'Tis  in  my  mind's  eye, 
child,  so  don't  get  frightened. 

RUTH.  You  begin  to  get  on  my  nerves.  (As  she  is 
about  to  seat  herself  R.  2  E.  RITA  shrieks.)  Heavens! 
What  is  the  matter? 

RITA.  You  were  just  about  to  sit  on  Madame  Drew. 
She  is  there  (pointing  to  chair  R.  2  E.) — with  her  sewing, 
and  she  isn't  the  kind  of  person  one  can  sit  on  with  im- 
punity. 

RUTH  (spitefully).  From  all  reports,  it  strikes  me  that 
she  is  the  very  one  that  needs  sitting  on — so  here  goes! 
(Seats  herself  heavily  and  resumes  work.) 

RITA  (looking  over  left  shoulder  at  ALICE,  who  is  com- 
ing toward  C.).  Alice,  Alice,  you  walked  right  over  An- 
nette's toes  then  and  bumped  into  Elizabeth  herself. 
Haven't  you  any  respect  for  real  personages  ? 

RUTH.  What  about  yourself.  It  seems  quite  likely  that 
you're  trespassing,  too.  Who  sat  in  that  chair?  (Points 
to  RITA'S  chair.) 

RITA  (complacently).     John  Harvey. 

ALICE.  You're  not  playing  fair.  You  can't  have  the 
only  man,  even  if  he  is  just  a  ghost.  Get  up  and  give  me 
a  chance.  (Tries  to  pull  RITA  from  chair.) 

RITA  (forcing  ALICE  on  hassock).  No,  no,  Alice.  You 
must  sit  just  where  Elizabeth  sat — at  my — I  mean,  John 
Harvey's  feet. 

ALICE  (struggling).  I  sit  on  no  man's  feet!  (As  RITA 
holds  her  down.)  Help!  Help! 

RUTH.  Humor  the  poor  lunatic,  Alice.  Hunks  of 
mince  pie  and  chunks  of  imagination  have  done  their  worst. 
She  thinks  she  is  John  Harvey.  (Mockingly.)  What 
wouldst  thou,  noble  youth?  (Rises  and  goes  toward  man- 
tel.) 

RITA  (taking  an  imaginary  paper  from  her  gown  and 
pointing).  See  here — and  here — and  here — an  attacking 
army  might  easily  enter  and  as  easily  overwhelm. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       33 

ALICE  (shaking  her  head}.  Alas,  milord!  Tis  written 
in  blank  verse — I  cannot  read. 

RITA  (disgustedly).  Now,  who  isn't  playing-  fair?  I'm 
doing  my  best  to  visualize  the  scene  for  you  and  you  re- 
fuse to  get  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing.  (RUTH  strikes 
three  resounding  whacks  upon  the  fireplace.  RITA  jumps 
and  turns  half  around.}  Goodness,  what  was  that? 

RUTH  (sarcastically).  The  shots.  Don't  you  recognize 
them?  Oh,  come,  now;  get  into  the  spirit  of  the  thing. 

ALICE  (mockingly).    Is't  thou,  Wenonah? 

RUTH  (striking  an  attitude).  Faith,  and  it's  the  young 
gintleman  I  would  be  afther  warnin'.  There's  a  pair  of 
Uncle  Sam  soldier  boys  what's  a  trackin'  him  and  a-howlin' 
bloody  murther.  And,  beggin'  your  grace,  sor,  they're 
usin'  bullets  so  reckless  like  that  you'd  best  be  makin' 
thracks  or  you'se  a  dead  one! 

Enter  HANNAH,  L.  U.  E.,  with  duster. 

RUTH.     Holy  Saint  Pathrick  presarve  your  soul! 

HANNAH  (dusting  sofa).  What  is  it,  Miss  Ruth — play 
acting  ? 

RUTH.  Only  a  movie,  Hannah,  to  illustrate  Rita's  thrill- 
ing account  of  Elizabeth  crossing  the  Delaware,  or  Fought, 
Bled  and  Married,  All-of-a-Sudden ! 

RITA  (rising  and  going  L.  U.  E.}.  They're  making  fun 
of  me  and  my  dream.  Couldn't  it  have  been  true,  Hannah  ? 
Couldn't  I  have  seen  it  just  as  it  happened  long  time  ago? 

HANNAH  (pausing  in  work}.  'Tis  the  second  sight — 
the  inner  eye  that's  been  given  you,  Miss  Rita.  Only  on 
Christmas  night  could  the  vision  have  come  to  you. 

RITA.  Then  you  don't  doubt  that  it  was  real — that  'twas 
more  than  a  dream? 

HANNAH  (dusting  piano}.  Doubt?  Never  in  the  world. 
Time  just  rolled  back  for  you  and  made  you  a  very  part 
of  what  happened  in  this  room  so  many  years  ago. 

RUTH  (sitting  in  desk  chair}.  Now,  Hannah,  do  you 
mean  to  say  that  this  imaginative  child  would  have  had 
this  extra  vision  had  you  not  told  her  the  story  beforehand  ? 

HANNAH.     It  would  have  come  to  her,  Miss  Ruth;  it 


34       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

would  have  come.  'Twas  Christmas  night — the  time  for 
revelation. 

ALICE.     But  science  says — 

HANNAH.  Science  doesn't  understand  everything,  Miss 
Alice — any  more  than  we  do.  (Crosses  back  of  ALICE  to 
L.  of  stage  and  continues  her  dusting.) 

RITA.  And  science  shall  not  spoil  my  beautiful  dream. 
(Stands  before  picture  over  sofa,  back  to  audience.)  Isn't 
she  lovely,  Hannah?  You  should  have  seen  her  sweep  in 
that  door  (pointing  to  R.  of  C.  in  F.),  fling  up  her  little 
head  and  stand  her  ground. 

Enter  MRS.  SHERMAN,  R.  of  C.  in  F. 

MRS.  S.  The  dream  again,  Rita?  (Stands  by  RITA  and 
looks  tip  at  the  picture.) 

RUTH.  The  dream,  again?  It  promises  to  be  now  and 
forever.  Don't  ask  her  to  repeat  it,  Mrs.  Sherman,  for 
I've  heard  it  four  times  already.  (Wailing.)  Please  don't 
let  her  tell  it. 

MRS.  S.  Well,  it  was  an  experience,  we  must  admit — 
one  of  the  unusual  things  that  sometimes  come  to  one. 
The  "atmosphere"  must  have  been  intense,  my  dear,  to 
have  supplied  so  vivid  and  realistic  a  picture  to  you.  (Sits 
on  sofa.) 

RUTH.  Embryo  psychic  powers,  I'm  thinking — "seventh 
daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter." 

ALICE.  Wouldn't  it  be  thrilling  to  have  a  clairvoyant 
for  one's  dearest  friend. 

RITA.  Joke  if  you  wish,  dear  friends,  but  you're  jealous 
of  my  experience  and  you  know  it.  (Sits  by  MRS.  SHER- 
MAN.) 

RUTH.  And  any  little  scepticism  which  we  happen  to 
have  would  quickly  disappear  if  you'd  put  the  Q.  E.  D.  to 
your  proposition  and  touch  the  spring  to  the  secret  passage. 

RITA.     You  think  I  don't  know. 

ALICE.  Oh,  no,  we  don't.  We  just  ask  you  to  demon- 
strate what  you  do  know? 

RITA  (emphatically).  Not  till  Betty  comes.  Not  till 
Betty  comes.  How  many  times  must  I  say  it? 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.       35 

MRS.  S.  Betty's  absence  begins  to  worry  me.  I  can't 
account  for  it. 

RITA  (tragically).  Have  you  searched  her  room?  Has 
her  bed  been  slept  in? 

MRS.  S.  (laughing).  Very  much  slept  in.  No  excite- 
ment there,  Rita. 

ALICE.     Betty  isn't  given  to  early  rising. 

MRS.  S.     That  also  puzzles  me. 

HANNAH  (pausing  in  her  work}.  But  the  telephone 
message — 

MRS.  S.  (in  surprise).     The  telephone  message? 

HANNAH.  Weren't  you  told?  The  message  came  early 
this  morning.  Miss  Betty  snatched  a  piece  of  toast,  drank 
a  cup  of  coffee  and  rode  to  town  before  the  rest  of  you 
\vere  up. 

MRS.  S.  Oh,  so  that's  it.  Then  we  need  worry  no  longer, 
for  it's  quite  evident  that  Jack  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
wire.  (Exit  HANNAH  R.  of  C.  in  F.) 

ALICE  (sighing).     It  must  be  heavenly  to  be  in  love. 

MRS.  S.  But  a  great  trial  to  the  families  of  the  parties 
involved. 

RITA  (thoughtfully).  Has  there  ever  been  any  opposi- 
tion to  Jack? 

MRS.  S.  (in  surprise).  Opposition?  Why,  no.  What 
made  you  ask? 

RUTH.  Dear  Mrs.  Sherman,  she  wants  Betty  to  elope 
through  that  secret  passage  and  rival  the  escapade  of  her 
ancestor. 

MRS.  S.  (laughing).  You  funny  child.  I  fear  that 
your  romantic  soul  must  do  without  the  extras  this  time. 
In  Betty's  own  forceful  language,  we  "fell"  for  Jack  at 
first  sight. 

RITA.  What  a  shame !  His  being  a  socialist  or  a  raving 
anarchist  would  certainly  have  added  local  color. 

ALICE.  And  Betty  would  have  defied  opposition  and 
ridden  away  on  his  motorcycle  with  the  same  spirit  that 
animated  the  Elizabeth  of  other  days. 

MRS.  S.  Alas,  I  fear  that  nothing  but  the  conventional 
wedding  is  in  store  for  Betty — with  the  usual  sequence 


36  BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

of  rice  and  old  shoes.  (Three  knocks  sound.)  Come  in! 
(Pause.)  Why,  I  heard  a  knock. 

ALICE.     So -did  I.     (Tapping  continues.) 

MRS.  S.  I'll  open  the  door.  (Rises  and  goes  L.  U.  E., 
opens  door,  looks  out  and  closes  door.)  There's  nothing 
here.  (Tapping  continues.) 

RUTH  (jumping  up).  Maybe  it's  Betty  at  the  window. 
(Rushes  to  each  window  in  turn  and  looks  out.)  No. 
(Stands  by  window  R.  U.  E.) 

MRS.    S.    (coming   down    L.).      Perhaps    it's   the   wind. 

RUTH  (looking  out).  But  there  is  no  wind.  (Tapping 
continues.  Meamvhile  RITA  has  risen  in  great  excitement.) 

RITA  (clasping  her  hands).  It's — it's  in  the  secret  pas- 
sage. 

RUTH.  There  you  go  again.  Are  you  sure  that  you 
know  where  the  secret  passage  is?  (Tapping  continues.) 

RITA  (excitedly}.  Oh,  it  is  from  the  secret  passage — it 
is.  (Seising  MRS.  SHERMAN.)  Mrs.  Sherman,  tell  them 
that  I'm  right. 

MRS.  S.  Let  me  listen.  (Pause.  Tapping  continues.) 
It  certainly  comes  from  that  direction.  (With  excitement.) 
Oh,  I  wonder  if  it  could  be  so — if  anyone  would  use  it ! 

RITA.  May  I  open  it  ?  Now?  And  test  the  revelation  of 
the  dream?  (MRS.  SHERMAN  nods,  RITA  touches  spring, 
the  panel  slides,  revealing  BETTY  in  riding  suit.) 

ALL.     Betty!    (MRS.  SHERMAN  and  RITA  stand  L.). 

RUTH  (coming  toward  R.  of  mantel).  Where  have  you 
been? 

BETTY.  Down  in  the  city  with  Jack.  He  telephoned  for 
me.  I  thought  you  knew. 

ALICE.  Why  did  you  come — this  way?  (Points  to 
passage. ) 

BETTY.  Didn't  I  say  that  I'd  reveal  its  whereabouts  to- 
day? (ALICE  joins  RUTH  R.  of  mantel.)  Well,  I've  kept 
my  promise.  (Steps  inside.) 

RUTH.  Suppose  there  had  been  no  one  here  to  release 
you,  you  harum-scarum  thing ! ! 

BETTY.     Then  I  should  have  gone  back  the  way  I  came. 

RJTA  (impressiveily).    But  someone  was  here. 


BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE.  37 

BETTY.  And  doubtless  Auntie  touched  the  spring  with 
proper  dignity. 

MRS.  S.     But  Auntie  didn't. 

BETTY.     Then  who  did? 

MRS.  S.     Rita. 

BETTY  (in  surprise).    Rita!    How  could  she? 

RITA.  I  had  a  dream,  Betty — a  perfectly  wonderful 
dream.  (Comes  close  to  BETTY  and  starts  to  tell  her.) 

BETTY  (interrupting).  And  you're  going  to  tell  me  all 
about  it — some  other  time,  my  dear.  I'm  not  dealing  in 
dreams  today — (rapturously)  only  in  glorious  realities. 

RUTH.     Betty!    Something's  happened. 

BETTY.  Everything's  happened !  The  sun,  moon  and 
stars  have  changed  their  courses — the  bottom  of  the 
world's  dropped  out  and  I'm  just  beginning  to  live! 

MRS.  S.     Why,  Betty! 

BETTY.     I'll  give  you  three  guesses. 

RITA  (eagerly).  Washington  has  surprised  the  Hessians 
and  has  taken  a  thousand  prisoners  and  has  captured  a 
thousand  stands  of  arms.  (BETTY  stares  at  her  in  amaze- 
ment.) 

RUTH.     Don't  mind  her.     She's  as  crazy  as  you. 

MRS.  S.  (suddenly).  Betty — Betty — has  Jack  received 
his  commission? 

BETTY.  Auntie  guessed  right  the  very  first  time.  It 
came  this  morning,  and  he  goes  tonight.  (Joyfully.)  He 
goes  tonight ! 

ALICE.  Betty,  you  are  crazy.  How  can  you  smile  when 
he  is  going? 

BETTY.     Because — I'm  going  with  him! 

MRS.  S.  (anxiously).     Betty,  wh.at  do  you  mean? 

BETTY  (rushing  to  MRS.  SHERMAN).  Oh,  Auntie,  I'm  a 
harum-scarum  thing,  but  you'll  be  good  to  me,  won't  you? 
(Puts  arm  around  MRS.  SHERMAN'S  neck.)  I  met  Jack 
this  morning.  When  he  told  me  the  commission  had  come, 
I  couldn't  let  him  go.  I  couldn't  say  no  to  his  pleadings — 
so — (she  hesitates)  so — I  married  him  this  morning! 
(Waves  her  hand  displaying  ivedding  ring,  then  turns  and 
faces  picture  oi'er  sofa.)  Oh,  you  dear  lady  of  other  days! 


38       BY  WAY  OF  THE  SECRET  PASSAGE. 

(Kisses  her  hand  to  the  picture.)  I  know  now  just  how 
you  felt — it's  in  the  blood,  I'm  thinking — and  I've  brought 
the  self-same  message  in  the  self -same  way,  on  the  self- 
same morning!  {As  they  gather  around  her.)  Not  a  word 
— not  a  word !  Jack  will  help  me  explain.  {Breaks  away, 
rushes  to  secret  passage  and  turns.)  He's  waiting.  Shall 
I  bring  him  to  you  by  way  of  the  secret  passage? 

CURTAIN. 


HE'S  MY  PAL 

By   LILLIAN    MORTIMER 
Price,  35  Cents 

Comedy-drama  in  3  acts;  6  men,  6  women.  Time,  2*£  hours. 
Scene:  1  interior.  Would  you  give  up  the  girl  you  loved  to  your 
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boarders.  It  makes  three  other  persons  beside  Wally  thoroughly 
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ugly-duckling-swan  girl  who  is  secretly  in  love  with  him.  With 
her  aid,  Wally,  who  is  a  game  sport,  practices  a  kindly  deception 
upon  his  pal,  with  a  view  to  breaking  his  engagement  and  leaving 
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lovers. 


THE  NEW  FUR  COAT 

By   ALLEN    GRANT    EVANS 
Price,  25  Cents 

Comedy  in  1  act;  1  man,  1  woman.  Time,  15  minutes.  Mrs. 
Morley  has  a  perfect  formula  for  working  hubby  for  a  new  fur 
coat:  Give  him  a  good  dinner;  then  drive  him  to  the  verge  of 
homicide  by  a  stream  of  prattle;  and  weep  when  he  gives  way 
to  exasperation.  Tears  are  trumps.  A  good-natured  satire  on 
married  life. 


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623  S.  Wabash  Ave.,  CHICAGO 


MY  DIXIE  ROSE 

By    MABEL    KEIGHTLEY    BENNETT 
Price,  35  Cents 

Comedy-drama  in  3  acts;  5  men,  3  women.  Time,  2*4  hours. 
Scene:  1  interior.  Charming,  lovable,  mischievous  Dixie  Rose! 
Life  to  her  seems  to  be  all  daring  horseback  rides  and  innocent 
flirtations  and  rollicking  jokes,  until  trouble  crosses  her  path  in 
the  form  of  a  persistent  elderly  suitor.  This  sinister  person  de- 
mands that  she  marry  him  to  save  her  beloved  father,  a  southern 
colonel  of  the  old  school,  from  financial  ruin  and  disgrace,  and 
her  lover  from  indictment  for  an  offense  that  later  turns  out  to  be. 
"framed."  The  lover,  however,  arrives  in  time  to  prevent  the 
hated  marriage  and  forces  the  plotter  to  reveal  the  great  secret 
of  Dixie's  identity,  namely,  that  she  is  the  Colonel's  granddaughter 
and  also  heiress  to  a  large  fortune.  A  stirring  drama,  colored  by 
the  alluring  romance  of  the  old  South  and  the  vigorous  enterprise 
of  the  new.  Cast  includes:  the  peppery  but  soft-hearted  old 
colonel;  Dixie's  jealous  but  devoted  lover;  his  haughty  father;  a 
hard,  selfish  beauty  of  the  adventuress  type;  and  a  youthful  en- 
gaged couple,  who  are  perpetually  quarreling. 


By  ORRELLE    FIDLAR  CORNELIUS 
Price,  25  Cents 

Comedy  in  1  act;  1  man,  6  women.  Time,  35  minutes.  Impelled 
by  malicious  village  gossip,  a  sweet  old-fashioned  mother  plans  to 
give  up  her  home  and  live  with  her  married  daughter.  But  finding 
herself  unwelcome  and  out  of  sympathy  with  the  younger  genera- 
tion, she  remains  in  the  old  home  among  her  beloved  neighbors. 
Delightful  compound  of  tears  and  laughter. 


T.  S.  DENISON  &  COMPANY,  Publishers 

623  S.  Wabash  Ave.,  CHICAGO 


:'|  Denisons  \ 
ft  Monologues  % 
Readings  j 


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vScnd     for 
Descriptive 

T.S.  DENISON  6-  COMPANY  Publishers 

623   South  Wabash  Ave.    CHICAGO 


The  chalk-talk  entertainer  is  always  looking  for  new 
material  for  his  programs.  Here  are  three  how-to-do-it 
chalk-talk  handbooks  which  he  will  find  indispensable. 

HOW  TO  CHALK  TALK.  Discusses  the  principles 
of  chalk  talking,  materials  and  equipment,  how  to  ar- 
range programs,  how  to  make  trick  pictures,  etc.  A  be- 
ginner's book,  yet  full  of  excellent  material  for  the 
experienced  artist.  Profusely  illustrated. 

CHALK  TALK  STUNTS.  Contains  a  wealth  of  ma- 
terial, practically-  all  humorous,  in  which  everything  is 
made  simple  and  easy  for  the  chalk  talk  entertainer. 
It  has  55  full-page  illustrations,  with  a  full  line  of 
patter  in  snappy  prose  or  verse  for  each  picture. 

CHALK  TALKS  FOR  SUNDAY  SCHOOLS.  Pro- 
vides eighteen  complete  chalk  talks,  fully  illustrated  for 
chalk  talkers  who  entertain  Sunday  schools  and  young 
people's  religious  societies.  Themes  are  drawn  from  the 
Bible,  from  folk  lore,  legends,  animal  stories,  and  every- 
day life. 

Price,   Board   Binding,   Each  Volume,   $1.00 

Send  for   Descriptive   Circular 


T.S.DENISON   &>  COAARANV 

623  J".  WABASM  XX.VE. 


